


You Are My Sunshine

by bitchslaplouis



Series: Sunshine Series [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Babies, F/M, Harry Being Harry, Pregnancy, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5720755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitchslaplouis/pseuds/bitchslaplouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part one of the sunshine series</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are My Sunshine

Being married to Harry was one of those experiences where in the middle of eating out at a fancy restaurant, he’d have requested two straws and would stick one in each ear and cross his eyes and you would start laughing and suddenly stop and think, “holy shit, I’m married to this lame-ass weirdo.” You loved him a lot, but you often found yourself wondering why the actual fuck you married a six and a half foot tall child. Of course, when your son was born, it only got weirder. Your baby taught himself to stand by pulling himself up on Harry’s hair. His first word was boots. Not dad, not mom, not kitty, not some weird sound you two pretended was a word, but boots.

Harry was a great dad though. Your house was always alive with music and scents. The only way to keep Harry from baking was to be constantly baking yourself or be always out of flour. There were muffins on the kitchen island, cookies in the jar, and homemade bread in the cabinet. Harry had a weeklong playlist mostly of music you’d never heard before that changed every week. Even at night, there were symphonies playing. Your baby’s first couple weeks were rough because he would only fall asleep to seventies rock music and you could never sleep to that.

Sometimes, though, Harry’s tender side would get a little annoying. Sometimes, you just wanted to have a nice dinner without the knock-knock jokes. Sometimes, you wish he wouldn’t tell everyone he was “taking a wee” every time he was late for something. Although that did make potty training easier—your son was so excited to take a wee!

One of your favorite parts of being married to Harry was being sick. Harry was the best person to be around when sick. He kept you tucked into bed, fed you, sang to you, gave you baths, did laundry, cleaned the whole house, and anything else you could ever think of.

When your son was about four, Harry went on a week-long trip for one of his self-discovery things. You didn’t understand it but you let him do his thing. The morning he was due to return, you woke up early, ran to the toilet and started vomiting.

“Mum?” your son asked, poking his head around the door in his footie pajamas.

“Oh, love,” you croaked, lifting your forehead from the cool edge of the toilet bowl. “Mummy’s sick. Daddy will be home soon. Your cereal is in the cabinet and there are bananas on the counter. Don’t stay here, baby. I don’t want you to get sick, too.” Your son headed downstairs obediently as you started vomiting again. Within an hour, the nausea had passed but you laid in bed, underneath the duvet, Harry’s playlist blasting Two Door Cinema Club, as you listened carefully for any negative noises from downstairs. You passed back out quickly though, exhausted from being sick.

When you woke up, there was a huge glass of ice water next to the bed with sticky fingerprints all over it. Your first thought was Harry, who knew that dehydration was a worry with excessive vomiting, but the prints smelled of banana. You smiled a little; your son had the same compassionate heart his father did. Suddenly, you felt a small warm lump jump on your legs.

“Mum?” Big green eyes peered up at you, looking a little nervous. You smiled at him and opened your arms and he crawled in, little smudges of banana still around his mouth. You weren’t worried about getting him sick anymore. “Daddy said he’ll be home soon.”

“That’s good,” you answered, wiping his mouth with a tissue. “Maybe we’ll just all spend the day in bed, huh? How’s that sound?” He smiled back at you and nuzzled into your chest, still in his pajamas. You laid that way for a while, enjoying the music and the drilling of rain against the windows and ignoring the pounding of your head and the clenching in your abdomen.

“You are my sunshine,” your little boy began singing, taking the ends of your hair in his hands and stroking them. “My only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray.” Harry used to sing that song to you when you were pregnant with him and had had awful morning sickness. He hadn’t sung it much since. “You never know, mum, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

“Thank you, baby,” You whispered, kissing the top of his curly head. You two fell asleep like that, curled together. You slept for an hour or so, finally being woken by the front door slamming shut. Only a moment later, Harry was at the door, his eyes wild and his clothes plastered to his skin with rain.

“What’s wrong?” he said, rushing in. You shushed him, laying your still-sleeping son to the side. “He said you were sick? Throwing up? Are you okay?” His big hands traced over your skin, looking for some sort of ailment to sooth.

“Shhh… Shhh… Harry, it’s okay. It was good vomiting,” you said, smiling at him and willing him to catch on. His big green eyes stared at you, confused and scared, before finally lighting up.

“Good…? Good! Oh. Shit, you’re…?” His hands moved down to your abdomen, sliding over your normal sized belly and staring at it with wonder.

“He’s getting a sibling.” You nodded, sliding your fingers throw his hair as he kneeled down to kiss your belly.

“You are my sunshines,” he hummed, hugging you tight and looking up at you with tears in his eyes. “You are all my sunshines.”


End file.
